


When Robot Armageddon comes, will you be by my side?

by earlofcardigans



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: popoffacork, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlofcardigans/pseuds/earlofcardigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey is pretty sure his electronics are turning on him. Bob is the only one that can help. Naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Robot Armageddon comes, will you be by my side?

"I'm going to need you to come over."

Bob rolls over and growls into the pillow. He shot straight out of the bed because Frank, the fucker, had changed all his ringtones to high pitched siren noises, and he thought the house was burning down, but no, it's just Mikey Way, at three in the morning, requesting that he come over to rewire his guest bedroom ceiling fan or something.

"Mmnaffanmg." He's pretty sure Mikey understands Bob grumbly speak for "I'm not fucking moving."

"No seriously. My electronics are conspiring against me, Bob. I think there is about to be a robot coup in my fucking house. I'm going to need you to get over here." Mikey mostly sounds half-asleep.

"Your coffee maker is not in league with your Roomba, dude. I'm hanging up and I will see you tomorrow when we all come over there as planned."

"But the robot home security-"

"Go to bed, Mikey. Jesus." Bob hangs up on him and throws his phone on the floor.  
##

"All I'm saying is that I didn't even think about the Roomba until Bob mentioned it and now it's not in the closet. Where I left it. Since Pete bought it." Mikey twitches at Gerard, and Bob wonders absently where he keeps the broom, just in case he twitches that coffee cup right out of his hand.

"Mikey, you move stuff all the time. It's your thing. It's probably under your bed or some shit." Gerard gestures with his coffee, and Bob vaguely wonders if there is a mop under the bed, too. Way-watching is sometimes entertaining after his eggs get cold.

"Well whatever. All I'm saying is that my electronics are out to get me and I think _I_ need to keep Bob." Mikey crosses his arms, smug and little brother demanding.

"No way. If you recall correctly, it was me who was Driving With Bob because he was coming to see me. He's staying with us, doucheface. Fix your own electronics habit. It's not my fault they're turning on you."

"Oh please. He wasn't coming here to see you. He was coming here to see _us_. You know, his band. Because he loves us. Quit hogging the Bob. I just want someone to tell me if my weather station is sending out Morse code, okay. Do you know Morse code, Gerard? Well?" Mikey's voice is actually building. Bob might get to see a Way fight. He hasn't seen one of those since before Lindsey, so that's a good way to start a day.

"Um, hey guys," he decides to interrupt though. He doesn't feel like cleaning up blood this early in the day. He's pretty sure it's not even two in the afternoon yet. And Gerard is a free bleeder.

They both turn to look at him, matching scowls and scrunched up mouths. Bob sort of wants to ruffle their hair.

"Since I'm sitting right here, you know, being Bob and all, how about I make the decision? I know, I know, crazy thoughts running through this big head, but hey, sometimes you gotta let them out." Bob does that ridiculous thing with his face where he doesn't quite smile.

He sees Mikey not smile back at him. Bob totally wins.  
##

"Okay, Mikey Way," Bob starts as he tucks down further into the couch, "This can go two ways. We can A, watch all these episodes of _Make It or Break It_ you have Tivoed for some reason and make melty smores Poptarts and braid our hair and shit. Or Two, we can watch all the _Lethal Weapon_ movies in a row since I just so happen to have them packed in my bag at this very moment, and quote it back to each other like doofuses over very large pizzas and serious amounts of Red Bull. Either way, we'll be hopped up enough to wait for Robot Armageddon."

Mikey watches Bob and weighs his options carefully. Bob has always appreciated Mikey's ability to take every situation seriously regardless of the actual gravity.

"I say we go with Tres." Mikey nods decisively. Bob feels like following suit but with a big goofy grin on his face. Mikey Fuckin Way: Making Bob want to look ridiculous for no apparent reason since 2004.

"And what's Tres exactly?"

"We order Thai food, watch actual _Armageddon_ and pretend we aren't gonna fucking cry when Bruce Willis gets in that elevator." Mikey raises an eyebrow at Bob.

"I accept your option, I will call you a candy ass, and you're ordering the food. Now throw me the remote. We'll watch _Law & Order_ reruns until food arrives." Bob makes absent grabby hands in Mikey's direction.  
##

Bob wakes up to sirens again, this time though, they aren't from his phone, and he's got Mikey plastered to his side and a wicked crick in his neck. They fell asleep on the fucking couch, and now the whole damn kitchen is on fire. He blinks sixty times like it will make his hearing better and shakes Mikey awake.

"Dude. Your kitchen is howling." Bob stands up slowly.

"Robot Armageddon. I knew that toaster with the egg cooker on the side was a bad idea. It's probably recalculating the satellite position of something important by now. What have I done?" Mikey stands up even slower. They walk to the kitchen glued together, but the only thing they find is a fat dog trying to scratch its way outside.

Bob leans against the fridge heavily. He is so not prepared to fight ghosts in the machines. Fat dogs he can handle. He's best friends with Frank, for fuck's sake.

"Dude. Did you not program your home security robot with the fact that you had pets?" Bob finds the switches and turns off the alarms. He makes sure no police were called, and he lets Mikey's dog outside. When he gets back, Mikey is standing in the middle of the kitchen huddled in on himself.

"Mikey what?" Bob rubs a hand over his back.

Mikey just points.

Apparently the coffee maker whirred to life in Bob's forty-second absence. He goes over and stops it and checks the settings.

"Mikey. Man, Mikey, you autoprogrammed this shit to start at four in the fucking morning. Did you open all your gadgets as soon as we got off tour and set them all up right then? Because honestly? That's what this looks like."

Mikey looks shifty for a minute and shrugs.

"Let's go to bed. I ate too much. And you're all puffy from crying like a little bitch." Bob takes Mikey's hand and leads him from the room.

"You're going to sleep with me, right?" Mikey sneaks up close behind him. They almost trip up the stairs.

"Do I have any choice? Bring your fat dog, too." Bob shakes his head all fond and stupid and thinks about texting Ray the latest.  
##

"So you coming home with us? Or are you staying here with my chickenshit little brother again?" Lindsey wiggles around sideways until her feet are tucked up under Bob's thigh so she can grin at him.

He sighs. Lindsey misses nothing. She never has. No one has ever been able to pull any sort of prank on her ever, and when she does it to them, she does it with such big puppy eyes and complete sincerity that no one sees the punchline until it's whopping them over the head.

Bob looks at her dead on because he can't not, "Yeah, I'm staying here. I don't know when I'll be back."

She smiles up at him and rubs a thumb on his beard. "It's cool, Bryar. I mean, you were taking up so much fucking space in my house. I couldn't get anything done."

Bob tugs on her hair and turns back to not watching the TV.

"Want to paint my toenails?" Lindsey swivels around and grabs her bag.

"Not particularly. No." Bob likes Lindsey and all, but he's not keen on touching Gerard's wife's feet. That's a level of weird he's not ready for.

"You suck. Want to watch me paint my toenails?" Lindsey grins at him again.

"I feel really weird right now. I won't lie to you." Bob tries to get off the couch surreptitiously. Mikey's world-eating robots are better than Lindsey's I've-got-a-secret smile any day.

"Fine. You don't want to be one of the girls and talk. I'm down. But hey. I feel like I should say, you're not going to run away if things get a little weird. You're going to stick around. We all know that. That's part of the Bob appeal. Bob appeal since way back. Trust me, I've been educated." Lindsey shakes her container of nail polish.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bob is almost positive they are having two different conversations.

"You will. Grab me a paper towel, will you, please?"

He practically runs to the kitchen.  
##

"Hey so, did you tell Lindsey I was going to run away from you?" Bob is pretty sure that's not what he was going to say when he sat up straighter and opened his mouth.

Mikey looks up from his slump in the chair, takes his legs off Bob's lap. "Um. No?"

"Did you tell Gerard?" He can't keep one fucking secret from Lindsey. It's only a little cute, mostly nauseating.

"No," Definitely more forceful.

Bob nods. Okay, he's figured it out. "You told Frank." His inability to keep anything from Gerard is even worse than Gerard's, and it's never cute.

"Um."

"Where am I going to go, dude? We practically live together on a bus. We _are_ living together now. Which reminds me, I need a place to live. Suggestions?" Bob has Mikey so turned around; he's looking at every exit in the room. It's kind of adorable, or it would be if Bob didn't want to punch him for thinking he was ever going to leave him.

"You could." Mikey just quits talking but Bob knows exactly what he wants to say.

"Hey Mikey, why don't you get over here." Bob jerks his head toward the couch.

Right before Mikey sits down, Bob grabs his hand and tumbles him down into his lap. Mikey looks down and laughs. Bob shrugs, all cute.

"You know I'm not going anywhere, right? I mean, we haven't even found the Roomba yet." Bob smirks at him, and he's completely surprised when Mikey leans down and slides his mouth over his.

"I know." Mikey doesn't smile at him, and Bob isn't too surprised to turn him around and kiss him properly, fit their mouths together, open and a little wet.

"Besides," he says when Mikey pushes him back and knots a fist in his shirt, "Who else is going to make me coffee at four in the fucking morning?"

Bob slides his hand into Mikey hair and swallows his huffy little laughter.


End file.
